


by the time the lights go out

by Liu



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, RPF, because the oneus guys have their own rules for what counts as friendly lol, can be read as shippy or just domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27563305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/pseuds/Liu
Summary: Keonhee doesn't like to watch sad drama endings alone; Youngjo doesn't mind indulging him.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Lee Keonhee, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Keonhee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	by the time the lights go out

**Author's Note:**

> there is absolutely no point for this fic aside from self-indulgence and my need for more ravn/keonhee to exist in the world. written in like an hour with no beta, so if you spot any typos or errors, i'll be happy to correct them.  
> i promised myself once to never indulge in rpf, and look where that got me.

Youngjo is squinting at the too-bright screen of his phone, shuffling through his playlist, when he hears the soft creak of the door. Manager-nim said he would be staying over at his girlfriend’s tonight, so Youngjo is pretty sure who it is, even though his eyes cannot adjust to the dark so quickly. He smiles to himself and holds his blankets up without a word; it’s a well-established routine, one for which neither of them needs any light. 

Sure enough, the familiar weight of a lanky body dips the mattress, and Youngjo stretches his arm over the pillow, waiting for a messy head to settle where it fits best. Keonhee’s hair isn’t quite damp – he hates sleeping with wet hair, Youngjo knows – but it still has that cool, fresh quality after a recent shower, and Youngjo smiles as the woody fragrance of Keonhee’s shampoo drifts to him. He’s never met anyone whose hair retains scents the way Keonhee’s does, and it may be an odd thing to notice, for anyone else: but Youngjo is the king of noticing odd little details about the people he cares about, especially ones that make him feel all warm and soft and comfortable. 

He lets Keonhee shift around, in his unapologetic, mildly aggressive way that reminds Youngjo of a sleepy animal trying to beat the environment into some semblance of comfort for the night. He likes that about Keonhee, among other things: how he never shrinks himself in order to make space for the rest of the world, how he doesn’t make himself smaller or more convenient, allowing his limbs and his emotions equal free range. Youngjo wonders when exactly his body learned Keonhee so well that he now moves subconsciously to accommodate for all the flailing, but he sure is glad about the lack of bruising in the morning. 

Tonight, Keonhee settles fairly quickly, lets Youngjo wrap the warm blankets around both of them as they adjust to the closeness, to the little bubble of warmth and comfort away from the world. 

“Last episode?” Youngjo mumbles into the nape of Keonhee’s neck, smiles when Keonhee grumbles a little but doesn’t move away. He doesn’t like to watch some things alone, Youngjo knows: horror movies, for one, but also the final episodes of dramas that promise to end badly. Youngjo knows the endings of so many dramas by now that he dreams sometimes of teary-eyed women and rain-soaked kisses, even though he can’t recall the names of any of those characters.

“Mmm,” Keonhee mumbles back and holds up his phone, the episode already ready to play. He never skips the opening song, and Youngjo thinks he recognizes this one. He lets himself drift off to the soft melody, thinks briefly about Keonhee’s voice, how it would match this song if he decided to cover it. Youngjo makes a mental note to suggest it, tomorrow, maybe, and snuggles closer, breathing in the warm comfort of the familiar body, fitting so perfectly in his arms. Keonhee’s feet keep moving under the blankets, brushing against the mattress, against Youngjo’s socked toes; soon enough, the sound of a muted argument drifting from the phone is accompanied by a growing damp patch against Youngjo’s sleeve. He curls his arm a little more, brushes his fingers through Keonhee’s hair: usually, he’s not allowed to mess with the style, but now, free of any product, the lightened locks slip through his fingers like silk. Keonhee sniffles and pushes closer, his back pressing into Youngjo’s chest; Youngjo wraps his other arm around that slim waist, letting his thumb draw slow, soothing circles against Keonhee’s stomach and keeping well away from his sides – he doesn’t particularly want to be headbutted tonight, and a tickled Keonhee is a dangerous one indeed. 

He must drift off completely, at some point, despite the sound and movement that would normally prevent him from falling asleep, because he wakes up to the sudden darkness of a phone having been turned off, and to the motion of Keonhee rolling over, kicking his knee under Youngjo’s leg and twisting his hand in Youngjo’s shirt. 

He re-wraps his arms around Keonhee and nuzzles into the younger’s hair, smiling at the huffing sounds muffled by his chest.

“Did it end well?” he asks softly, and Keonhee hums something that could be both ‘yes’ and ‘no’, but no tears seem to be soaking Youngjo’s chest, so it probably wasn’t too bad of an ending. 

“Working early?” Keonhee asks, after a while, and it takes Youngjo’s brain a moment to load; he chuckles then and ruffles the short hair at the back of Keonhee’s head.

“So what?” he teases and earns himself an annoyed slap to the shoulder: but Keonhee’s too closely wrapped up in Youngjo for the impact to truly hurt. 

“Nothing on my schedule until ten,” he amends kindly, not in the mood for too much teasing, and feels Keonhee relax further into his embrace; he might come off as selfish sometimes, too wrapped up in what he wants to do to notice too-subtle clues of discomfort in others, but Youngjo knows that Keonhee notices far more than he lets on. For instance, how Youngjo can’t sleep with too much movement or light in the room, despite years spent in packed dorms. Keonhee won’t admit it out loud, but he always slips out of Youngjo’s room if he knows they’re scheduled to get up early the next morning – today, though, Youngjo’s glad to keep hugging Keonhee close, glad he doesn’t have to think too hard about when exactly will the younger stop shifting and moving around.

Eventually, they end up as they always do, with Keonhee’s head nearly off the pillow, his back to Youngjo’s chest, hand wrapped around Youngjo’s wrist where it dangles over Keonhee’s side. 

“G’night,” Keonhee mutters, voice already rough and sleepy; Youngjo hums back, only half awake at best. 

He doesn’t know how he falls asleep, but he definitely dreams about dramatic kisses and soft melodies that night.


End file.
